


Closet Talk

by ribbonelle



Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Animated (2007)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hogwarts, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-26
Updated: 2014-09-26
Packaged: 2018-02-18 20:38:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,319
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2361437
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ribbonelle/pseuds/ribbonelle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Wasp preferred peace and quiet, and while he wasn’t <i>that</i> bothered by a group of idiots fooling around in close proximity, he did care about one particular mech.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Closet Talk

**Author's Note:**

> this was written for 30 days of OTP, under the prompt 'Seven Minutes In Heaven'. basically MercuryMapleKey and I came up with a hogwarts AU one day, and this is part of that verse. there's a lot of facets and angles to it, and we've just discussed things in general, yknow, but it was fun and i had to write something about it, so here's this!

The worst thing about doing assignments with Sunstorm was that the flier _insisted_ on having their discussions in the quad. Despite his easily influenced nature, he wouldn’t listen to any other excuse Wasp gave him, opting instead to just park his yellow aft onto one of the stone benches in the courtyard, and smile blindingly at the mini. It had something to do with ‘positive energy’ and ‘the benefits of an open space’. Wasp sometimes just wanted to smack the mech across his faceplates, but that wouldn’t do. He had an image to maintain.

‘The History of Magic’ wasn’t an interesting subject, and maybe Sunstorm should be given credit for suggesting they study outside, so things didn’t get too boring. But sitting outside wasn’t the main reason for Wasp’s annoyance.

They had met up during the usual social hours, in that gap of time between the end of classes and dinner, and most of the other students were out and about.

Today, it seemed that a bunch of Quidditch jocks had decided to hang out in the quad, laughing boisterously while engaging in whatever the Pit they did. Wasp preferred peace and quiet, and while he wasn’t _that_ bothered by a group of idiots fooling around in close proximity, he did care about one particular mech.

Ironhide was in the group, snickering along to something Sentinel was saying, and his laugh was grating on Wasp’s audials. Did he _have_ to be here?

It didn’t matter. Wasp was a master at feigning ignorance, so he focused on the textbook laid in front of him, jotting down notes. Sunstorm was humming to himself, some happy, weird tune while he glanced up at Wasp’s writing then back down to his own time and time again, as if that did him any good. They were to pass up their joint assignment next week anyway, they had time. Wasp just liked finishing things early.

It almost was too much of a coincidence when Sunstorm looked up with a gasp, optics bright. He was looking at something above Wasp’s head, which prompted the mini to do the same, warily.

It was a bottle. An empty bottle of Butterbeer, more precisely, and it was hovering in the air, pointing directly towards him.

A sense of dread welled up in Wasp. For Primus’ sake.

Of course, it was Ironhide that jogged up to him, his dumb smile apologetic and amused at the same time, “Hey, Wasp! Sorry to bother you. You doin’ something important there?”

He opened his mouth to snap a confirmation, but Sunstorm; the big-mouthed imbecile; spoke before he had the chance, “Hello Ironhide! How lovely of you to come grace us with your glorious presence. Wasp and I are just seeking out references for our class’s history project. He had finished _long_ ago, you know how he is, magnificently efficient in everything he does! We are simply adding nothing but a few footnotes now.”

Wasp turned away from Ironhide to glare at Sunstorm, whose slimy smile didn’t even waver one bit.

“Well then, thanks Sunstorm. So Wasp,” it took Wasp his all to actually not look at Ironhide again right away, “Can I ask you a favour?”

“No,” was the short reply, “Told you I don’t like to be disturbed when I’m studying, Ironhide.”

The orange Hufflepuff wasn’t fazed in the least, “You did, but I need your help. We’re playing a game. It’s fine if you don’t wanna help out, it’s your choice, but then I’ve gotta strip. Right here. Don’t you wanna help me?”

The Slytherin looked up from his notes to raise an optic ridge at Ironhide. Ironhide nodded seriously, moving aside a little and lifting a hand to point at something. Wasp glanced over to where he was pointing, and his optics brightened in surprise.

Wreck-Gar was sitting on the ground, legs folded, grinning widely despite the fact that he didn’t have that much plating on him, half-naked. More than half-naked. He waved enthusiastically when Wasp looked over. The mini stopped staring and scowled at Ironhide, “Seriously? That’s so uncivilised. What do you want from me anyway?”

Ironhide’s optics flicked up to the still hovering charmed bottle, and rubbed the back of his helm in something like embarrassment, “Seven minutes in Heaven?”

Wasp bristled, optics narrowing, “You’re _kidding_ me.”

“No, really! We don’t have to do anythin’, it’s just us in the Boathouse’s closet for 7 minutes and it’ll pass like a breeze, I promise. Please?” Ironhide was gesticulating a little now, his hands waving to and fro before they settled down, “…Or I should just…strip? Maybe that’s the better option for you?”

The expression on Wasp’s face turned even angrier, and Ironhide shook his head, snickering, “Whoa okay, Primus, I’m just kidding, Wasp. Honestly. But it’d be super nice of you to just go with this for a bit. But I ain’t gonna force you, of course.”

The mini was really tempted to just dismiss the Hufflepuff without another thought, before his annoying partner piped up, sounding as skeevy as always, “You should aid him, Wasp! It wouldn’t be too much trouble for you, I’m sure, seven minutes isn’t that long of a time! The both of you are acquaintances, right? I’m sure it wouldn’t be a problem for you to—“

At the hard glare Wasp fixed him with, Sunstorm shut right up. Before adding with a nervous laugh, “I am simply voicing my opinion, of course.”

“Of course you are,” mumbled Wasp, and turned to Ironhide again, “Will you stop bothering me if I do this for you?”

“Bottle won’t go for anyone it’s picked before, or so Sentinel says. I wouldn’t trust him much if I were you. But okay. Won’t bug you anymore.”

Wasp made a face at the intentional or unintentional pun, but stood up from the bench and sighed loudly, “Fine.”

From a distance, Sentinel whooped loudly, but quieted once Ironhide shook his head. Wasp couldn’t help but sneer inwardly at the group of mechs sitting on the ground. Quidditch players and their groupies mostly, Hogwarts’ elite but also probably the most hedonistic mechanisms on the grounds. They were cool, but not cool enough that Wasp felt like he should constantly be in their company.

Sentinel, fellow Slytherin, a well-respected individual despite his unsavoury behaviour walked up to them, smirking widely, “Hey Wasp. How nice of you to help out bolt-brains here. Come on, let’s get to the Boathouse.”

Wasp walked stonily with them, ignoring how Sentinel kept obviously elbowing Ironhide and waggling his optic ridges suggestively. Idiots, all of them. He had the mind to just go back and let Ironhide strip, or whatever, but maybe he could work his compliance to his advantage. Everyone else wouldn’t think of him as some fun-hating mech, at least.

The Boathouse wasn’t far of course, and the chosen closet was the one right next to the entrance. Sentinel took out his wand and tapped the door, and it swung open, revealing two students inside. Or rather, two students trying to merge into one it seemed, from how they were clinging to each other.

“Hey, hey! Seven minutes are up, Primus above, Blackarachnia.”

True enough, it was Blackarachnia who unwound her frame from the other mech, sparing the newcomers a glance before slinking out of the closet casually, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, “About time.”

A shaky, stricken Optimus made his way out of the closet as well, faceplates flushed, and he looked everywhere without meeting anyone else’s optics. He hurried after Blackarachnia as she strode out of the Boathouse, and left the scene. Wasp had to reset his optics a few times.

Seriously, now.

“Okay, seven minutes, you don’t get out till I come get you. And Ironhide,” Sentinel nudged his colleague, dropping his voice in a whisper that was still loud enough for Wasp to hear, “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

Ironhide chuckled, not replying. He knew better.

The both of them entered the closet, and Sentinel closed the door. There was a muttered spell and then there was nothing but silence and darkness. It was a small enough space that Ironhide had to hunch slightly, and their pedes were touching. It was enough room for Wasp, of course, and he noted that there was plenty of tarps and rope inside the closet, boating equipment, he assumed.

Pulling his wand out of his subspace, Wasp cast a sound barrier, so that no one outside would hear them, and sighed a quiet, “Lumos.” Light illuminated the dark closet, and he looked up at Ironhide.

Ironhide had a small smile on his face, which looked dumb considering how he was bent over, but Wasp simply rolled his optics. “Sit down, or something. You’d fit.”

The Hufflepuff shuffled around a little, and ended up sitting with his knees brought up slightly. He was making an effort not to pin Wasp to the closet wall, but Wasp solved that potential problem. He hoisted himself up with his hands on Ironhide’s knees, and conveniently sat in the mech’s lap.

“Hi,” Ironhide said eventually, smile still evident, “I haven’t spent time with you in a while.”

His hands lifted to presumably rest on Wasp’s back or some part of the mini’s body, but Wasp leaned away, purple optics bright, “No. Don’t touch me. Don’t even move.”

The orange mech reset his optics in surprise, but relented, retracting his hands and raised them so they were in view, “Okay. Sure. Can we make out, though?”

“I don’t know, Ironhide, you think?” Wasp’s tone was almost lilting, despite how tight he had his field pulled into himself, “You rigged that bottle, didn’t you?”

“Honest to Primus, I didn’t,” Ironhide put a hand over his spark and the other still held up in the air.

“So it’s coincidence we ended up here?”

“…Well, not really. I think it was Sentinel.”

“He _knows_ about us?”

“Doubt it,” the Hufflepuff laughed a little, embarrassed, “I might have went, ‘Hey, Wasp’s here!’ when we first met up at the quad. He’s just foolin’ around. He doesn’t know.”

Wasp huffed, but didn’t further question Ironhide. The mech was probably right, lying wasn’t one of his strong suits. And well, things had gotten to a point where Wasp felt like he might not even care if anyone knew about their relationship, if you could call it that. He cared, still, he definitely did. But some days it felt like nothing would go wrong if people knew anyway.

Currently though, there were more pressing matters, “We’re not going to kiss. I’m keeping my mask on till we get out of this stupid closet. Knowing your friends, they won’t even wait seven minutes.”

“That is true. Alright, that’s fine. We can just talk. I missed you.”

He hated how easily Ironhide made him want to stop being rational. Wasp was stronger than that, though, “Maybe you did, but we’re not going to just talk, either. You’re doing nothing. Just sit there. Got it?”

Ironhide was definitely puzzled now, “…Okay?”

Almost immediately after, small fingers reached down to casually scrape along orange plating. Those same, small fingers dipped into the seams of Ironhide’s frame and the bigger mech’s vocalizer reset audibly, blue optics flickering in his surprise.

“Oh, that’s not fair,” he breathed out when his voice returned, looking up at Wasp with disbelief on his faceplates.

The mini ignored him for a while, taking his time to map out Ironhide’s frame, before leaning up to tug roughly at the mech’s shoulder armor, reaching in to play with cables, “I told you a million times I don’t like being disturbed when I’m studying. You really think you should be talking about what’s fair?”

Ironhide shuddered visibly when Wasp plucked at his wiring and lifted a cable up gently, before rolling it between green fingers. A harsh vent escaped him, “But you’re _always_ studying. And it ain’t like I disturbed you on purpose this time.”

“Still,” Wasp almost hummed, other hand languidly making its way to the glass panels on Ironhide’s chest, “Inexcusable.” He dragged the tip of one digit down the glass, the noise a low screech, and Ironhide had to offline his optics for a while.

Wasp was almost lazy in his gestures, moving back to Ironhide’s front to frame the rise of the Hufflepuff’s chest, thumbing at the yellow lights installed in the orange plating. It wasn’t till Wasp rolled his hips once, head dipped down to focus on following Ironhide’s pelvic seams with his fingers that the larger mech jerked, as if snapping out of a reverie.

“Wasp, really, you’re fraggin’ killing me here.”

“Am I?” the Slytherin replied, raising his optic ridges, grinning. Not that Ironhide could see, of course, his expression hidden behind his face mask, “I just missed you too, is all.”

It was quite flattering how instantly Ironhide’s frown disappeared, a happy smile curving his lips, “Really?”

Wasp considered lying for a few moments, before realizing that he didn’t really have to pretend with Ironhide.

“Yeah. Really.”

He leaned forward, lightly bumping the side of his facemask against Ironhide’s cheek once, and then against the mech’s parted lips, gently.

The closet doors swung open suddenly without warning, but Wasp was off Ironhide’s lap and out the dark space literally seconds after they opened, perfectly nonchalant. Sentinel looked at him in puzzlement, while Ironhide clambered out of the closet as well, resetting his vocalizer subtly a few times.

Wasp didn’t waste time, making his way back to the quad. He could hear the two mechs behind him conversing, Sentinel with his too loud voice.

“Did you even do anything?”

“Nope. Not a thing.”

“Then why are you fraggin’ burning up?”

“Have you even been in that closet? Small, enclosed, practically no ventilation, how couldn’t I be burning up.”

The reasoning almost didn’t make sense, but Wasp found himself snickering anyway.


End file.
